A Priest in Hell: Gangs, Murderers and Snitching in a - download pdf or read online
By Randall Radic
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Extra info for A Priest in Hell: Gangs, Murderers and Snitching in a California Jail
I enter room . It is ten feet by ten feet, with a gray cement floor. The floor is stained with dark blobs. The walls are yellow cinderblock. On the far wall is a sliding glass window, which looks into a room full of green mesh bags. I take off all my clothes, shove them in the bag. There is a side pocket in the bag for my shoes. I jam them in the pocket. The window slides open. “Hand me the green bag,” says a voice. I see only arms and a chest encased in a black uniform through the window. I hand him the bag.
I was,” I confess. “But not now. ” “You got a house? A car? ” he asks me. ” I smile at him. ” “Too bad,” he says. He hands me a small piece of paper. “Anyway, you find any money, call my cousin. Ask for Martin. Tell him you know me. ” He taps his chest with his fingers. ” I read the piece of paper. It is hand printed, in pencil: “Need bail? ” Then it gives a phone number. “If I find any money, I’ll call him first thing,” I say, wondering how come he’s not out if his cousin is a bail bondsman. ” “Sure, anyone,” he says.
My asshole looks back at the like a cyclops. “Cough,” he says. ” I ask. “Cough! ” he yells. I cough. “Stand up and turn around,” he says. I obey. “Lift up your balls, let me see your crotch,” says the . I look at him as I obey. His face is an indifferent mask. How many assholes a day does he get to view? I wonder. “Drop ’em,” he says. ” I obey, pirouetting slowly before him. I feel like a stripper at a titty club must feel. “Okay. Put on those clothes. ” The door slams shut. I dress, making sure to tuck my T-shirt in.
A Priest in Hell: Gangs, Murderers and Snitching in a California Jail by Randall Radic